


Odds and Ends

by AdventTraitor



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: M/M, Sinja
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3418031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdventTraitor/pseuds/AdventTraitor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of prompts I have received from my lovely tumblr followers, all kept together here for your reading pleasure.  Ratings and themes will vary by story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Childhood Crush

**Author's Note:**

> Childhood Crush, requested by tumblr user zzzepar. <3 The prompt was just a story about a childhood crush, left to my discretion.

Ja’far is ten when the first bully starts pestering him. It’s a boy from his school, in the same grade. He jeers about how unnatural white hair is, and how stupid his freckles are, and how poor he must be for wearing hand-me-down, worn-out clothing.

The words hurt, but Ja’far can handle words. When the boys started using their fists, that was a little more difficult to manage.

His small stature made it hard to fight back against one boy twice his size, let alone three ganging up on him all at once. He’s curled into a ball, trying to wait the attack out when he hears a shout, causing the boys to pause in their assault.

A boy in the junior high uniform is running over, scaring the others away. He runs up to Ja’far, who cowers, hiding his face. The other boy crouches down, touching his shoulder gently. Ja’far flinches, but glances toward the other through teary eyes, and is amazed to see a boy with hair just as differently colored as his own.

He takes the hand stretched toward him, and stands up, sniffling, and lets the boy with the strange purple hair take him home. It’s several years before he sees him again, but the oddly colored hair and the kind yellow eyes are a sight that Ja’far doesn’t forget.

\-----

Ja’far is fourteen when he learns Sinbad’s name. It’s winter, and the snow is unusually persistent this year; feet and feet of snow pile up, making it difficult to get home from school. Not having a suitable winter coat doesn’t help, but there’s nothing he can do about that, so Ja’far just shivers his way through the long walk home. The snow falling from the sky is the wet, thick kind, so his hair and his clothing are soaked not minutes after he steps outside.

Somewhere about halfway through the trek, an umbrella is placed above him. He looks up, then behind him in surprise. At first Ja’far is simply confused, but when the recognition of the violet hair and the golden colored eyes click, he feels a flush rising in his skin. He hopes his face is already red from the cold to hide it.

The boy—man, now—smiles at him, and asks if he remembers. Ja’far blinks and nods after a moment, his words failing him. The other’s grin widens, and he offers to take him home again. Ja’far nods again, and they walk forward. When they reach Ja’far’s home, Sinbad tells him his name and gives Ja’far his coat before he walks away, the cold not appearing to bother him. Ja’far watches him for a few moments, clutching the coat to his chest and shivering. It’s too big for him, but he wears it every day for the rest of that winter.

Sinbad begins to accompany him on his walks home, as he lives in the same direction.

 ---

Ja’far is sixteen when his adoptive parents kick him out of their house. He had known it was coming, but that didn’t stop him from being scared. Ja’far owns next to nothing, and doesn’t have a job; he’s still in high school, but without a place to live, he scarcely knows what to do.

He finds himself at Sinbad’s apartment, knocking on the door before he knows what he’s doing. When Sinbad answers and asks what’s wrong, Ja’far tells him with a stoic face. Sinbad has a strange look on his face that the boy can’t quite decipher, before he pulls Ja’far inside and tells him that this is his home now. Ja’far is confused, but accepts the embrace Sinbad pulls him into.

It’s the first time he’s ever _felt_ at home.

\-----

Ja’far is eighteen the first time Sinbad makes love to him. They’ve lived together for a pair of years now, and Ja’far is hard pressed to say they have a conventional relationship. Sinbad had never made any overt _moves_ toward him when he was younger—in fact, it had been only a few months ago that he started acting strangely around Ja’far. Not meeting his eyes, answering in short, one or two word replies, flinching away from his touch, however inadvertent. Ja’far let that go on for a week before he snapped, and Sinbad begrudgingly confessed that he had developed _“those kind”_ of feelings for him.

After the initial wave of surprise, Ja’far felt happy. Perhaps as happy as when Sinbad had first welcomed him into his own home. When Ja’far gave him a favorable response, Sinbad had kissed him out of excitement. Ja’far let him touch and kiss and taste, and shyly he would do the same, but he had wanted to wait, at least for a little while, to go any further.

When Ja’far tells Sinbad he’s ready, the other smiles and beckons him toward the bed. His touches are soft and lingering, pulling clothes away slowly and following the path of his fingers with his lips. Ja’far is comfortable with his own body after years of Sinbad telling him how beautiful he is, but the amount of attention being lavished on him makes him somewhat self-conscious. His legs are tense, and they keep trying to close despite the soft words of encouragement Sinbad continues to murmur against his skin.

He touches the old wounds on the insides of his thighs, frowning a little, but not asking about them. Instead, he presses his lips to the scarred lines of skin, making Ja’far’s back arch as he whimpers. It doesn’t hurt—it hasn’t in years—but while scar tissue has no feeling, the skin around it tries to compensate with extra sensitivity.

When Sinbad’s hips press between his thighs and he settles down on top of Ja’far, he pushes sweaty white hair out of his eyes and asks him if he’s still sure. Ja’far nods, his arms moving to wrap around Sinbad’s neck to pull him down.

It’s a feeling Ja’far isn’t sure he will ever be used to—at first, uncomfortable and more than a little painful, but he finds himself moaning and crying out with every deep, determined roll of Sinbad’s hips, his mouth having since moved to Ja’far’s throat. Ja’far’s hands move from clawing at the other’s back to tangle in his hair instead, which he notes that Sinbad seems to approve of.

Afterwards, Ja’far rests with his head in Sinbad’s lap, the other sitting up against the headboard of the bed, one hand stroking slowly through white hair. It may be the first time Sinbad has sex with Ja’far, but it isn’t the first time he tells Ja’far he loves him.

\-----

Ja’far is twenty-two when Sinbad asks him to marry him. Ja’far thinks it’s a silly formality, but Sinbad insists it means more. After a few minutes of light-hearted bickering, Ja’far agrees.

Their friends—so many more kind people than Ja’far could have dreamed of when he was little—surround them at the ceremony, and Ja’far can’t remember smiling more in the span of one day than on his wedding day. He glances up to Sinbad’s face while the other greets one of their many guests, and thinks of how happy this man has made him, since the first time they met when he was a child.

 _It gets better,_ he thinks to his past self. _So much better._


	2. Sea Breezes and Desert Suns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad!fic, requested by tumblr user eldermuse. I was given the entire outline, so I merely fleshed it out. I am very upset because I did cry several times while writing this. Thank you for the sad feels. ;n;

“Get up.”

Ja’far spat out a mouthful of metallic-tasting blood, his eyes no longer able to focus as he looked up toward the mass that was Kouen in full djinn equip, an unbearable heat rolling off of Astaroth in waves. As he brought himself up on shaky legs, Kouen lifted an arm to the side and swung it around, connecting the broad side of his sword to Ja’far’s ribs with a sickening crunch. Ja’far was thrown a few feet, his breath coming to him in ever-shorter gasps as the blood began to pour into his lungs.

“It’s not as much fun to beat on a dead horse as it is an unbroken mare…even still, you gave a valiant effort. Not so many would have lasted more than a minute against a full djinn equip. I suppose you _are_ more than just a king’s whore; our spies were _very_ off base in this regard,” Kouen smirked.

Ja’far tried to spit out a scathing response, but only a spatter of blood made its way out. Kouen sighed as he made his way up to Ja’far and pressed the point of his sword to the other’s throat, a moment away from dealing the final blow. He stopped mid-motion, a pensive expression taking his face for a moment before he pulled his sword away and sheathed it, kneeling down to see Ja’far’s eyes as he spoke his next words.

“You’ll survive another few minutes. Had I the time, I might see for myself why your king adores you so…however, I’m certain he is already missing my presence, seeing as the rest of my forces are already in the palace’s compound. Shall we go see him together?” he asked, the smile almost genuine until it fell short from his eyes.

Ja’far, unable to respond—indeed, he couldn’t even get his fingers to answer to commands anymore—was helpless to stop Kouen from grabbing the collar of his crimson-stained robes. Even as his eyesight began to fail him, he saw the horrified faces of the citizens of his country—Sindria, this was still Sindria, Sinbad was still alive—as he was dragged through the city, the dark stain of a trail he left on the ground behind him attesting to his dire injuries.

Minutes later, though it felt like an indefinite amount of time to Ja’far, he heard Kouen speaking again—they had stopped moving. Ja’far was putting what little concentration he had left into keeping his shallow breaths _going_ , staying alive until Sinbad could save him—

He was thrown suddenly, rolling lifelessly and knocking the air out of his lungs, leaving him to struggle and choke until there was nothing left to do but suffocate.

His eyes were open, but he couldn’t see—it was all gray, blurred and nonsensical—but he could still _feel_. There was a hand on his face; Sinbad’s, he always knew Sin’s touch. It was warm as he remembered, but trembling and uncertain. Ja’far wanted more than anything to clasp his own hand over his king’s, but there was nothing for it; he was moments away from returning to the Great Flow, his body finally taking more than it could handle.

He thought he felt pressure against his lips, but even that sensation was taken from him—still, it was a nice last moment, if he had to choose one. He didn’t feel Sinbad after that; just a lot of…well, nothing.

When Ja’far next woke, it was to the sight of Aladdin bent over him. There were tears in his blue eyes, streaming down his cheeks even as his steady hands continued to heal the most grievous of his wounds. Ja’far coughed, blinking and spitting out the blood that had pooled in his mouth and shaking as the blood began to return to his limbs.

Aladdin sat back for a moment, before helping Ja’far sit up and pressing his face to the torn, bloody cloth over Ja’far’s chest. Though he was still weak, there was chance for survival now—Aladdin must have found him at the very last second, because Ja’far was certain there was no returning from his condition. He looked down to the boy in his lap, lifting a shaky arm to thread his fingers through the disheveled blue hair.

“Aladdin…” he started hoarsely. “What…what’s happened?” he asked, knowing that the answer will be nothing he truly wants to hear.

The boy just began to shake his head slowly, his face still pressed against Ja’far. It took a few moments for him to respond verbally.

“They…they’re fighting…right now,” he murmured, his responses muffled.

“They…?” Ja’far asked, his mind still moving slowly. “Sin? And…Kouen?” It was the only thing that made sense.

“He was so angry…he stopped caring.” Aladdin took a deep breath, seeming to gather his wits before he looked up to Ja’far’s face. “He hurt so much, he had to stop caring to save himself...but it didn’t work. That way never works.”

“What…he…I don’t understand.”

“Depravity.”

That one word struck a chord in Ja’far, causing a cold, heavy weight to drop in his stomach.

“Sinbad?” he asked, praying to all the gods he didn’t believe in for Aladdin to disagree.

Aladdin nodded.

Ja’far closed his eyes, before gently moving Aladdin off of him, beginning to try and stand and wincing with every wound screaming in protest—Sinbad needed him, so his body would deal with it. Aladdin was trying to protest, but quickly understood that Ja’far was going to do as he wished. He instead moved to help support Ja’far’s weight, throwing an arm around his waist. The height difference made it a little awkward, but Ja’far would take anything he could get.

Aladdin began to steer them toward the last place he’d seen the eight pointed star in the sky—curious, how quiet it was now that he noticed it.

Several excruciating minutes later, and they made it to one of the inner courtyards of the palace. Ja’far noticed all the rubble—more broken pieces than whole, and his heart ached for seeing his home in such disrepair—before he saw the blood. He followed one trail, and discovered Kouen’s corpse nearly ripped in half. Following the other trail, he discovered Sinbad sitting calmly, watching the life bleed out of his own wounds in silence—doing nothing to try and save himself.

Ja’far broke away from Aladdin, moving more quickly than his body wanted to allow. He collapsed in front of Sinbad, his hands clawing at his king’s shoulders. He looked up into Sinbad’s eyes, and felt an odd urge to cry at the complete emptiness inside them.

“Sin,” he gasped, feeling several wounds reopening. “Sin, please…”

Sinbad pushed Ja’far away, his eyes not moving. Ja’far landed on his back, the pain taking the breath out of his lungs. Aladdin hurried over, helping him up once again. Ja’far felt the tears streaming down his face as he realized it was true; Sinbad was gone.

“You told me,” he started, his breath ragged and gasping, “that you would be my way of life,” he started. “In return, I promised…I promised to follow you, wherever you go.” He swallowed, trying to keep the hysterics out of his voice. He was only partially successful. “If you die, I will follow you. I won’t live without you.” Sinbad was looking at him with those cold eyes now, though he otherwise remained motionless.

“So if you want to run from this life because it’s too _difficult_ for you to handle, then I’ll be right beside you, reminding you of what a _fucking coward_ you are throughout all of eternity,” he spat, doing everything in his power to keep his voice from shaking despite the tears rolling down his face. “You will have nobody to blame for my death but yourself.”

“I did this…for you,” Sinbad answered lowly.

Ja’far sneered, his body nearly giving out as he tried to move closer once again. “You did this for _you_ ,” he shot back. “And if you have any self-respect left at all, you’ll let Aladdin dispose of all that black rukh and bring back the real you. This isn’t power—not truly, and you’ve always known that. Maybe you defeated Kouen, but you sacrificed yourself, and your country—you _owe_ your citizens for such a casual disregard for their wellbeing.”

Sinbad glanced to Aladdin, then back to Ja’far, and turned his face away. “I’ve chosen my path. You need not follow me any longer; I hereby officially relieve you of your duties. Go live for a better king.”

Ja’far was frozen, unable to process his dismissal for a good minute or two. Aladdin was humming in distress, still taking a part of Ja’far’s weight to help the other stand. He urged Aladdin away then, pushing insistently until the boy was no longer touching him. He pulled out a dagger from his robes, positioning it at his own throat.

“No, I won’t. You’re already dead, Sinbad; I no longer have any reason to stay.”

Just before he moved to end himself, Sinbad’s hand was wrapped around his wrist, turning it in such a way that the blade dropped from his hand. His yellow eyes were flashing with the first sign of emotion Ja’far had seen since his king had fallen.

“That’s not an option.”

“It’s the only option, unless you come back to me.”

He stared Sinbad down, refusing to relent despite his injuries taking more of a toll than he wanted to admit. Sinbad’s eyes narrowed, a pensive expression replacing the angry one.

“If I agree…I have one condition.”

“Name it,” Ja’far gasped, allowing Sinbad to help him stand.

“If I allow Aladdin to cleanse my rukh…you must agree that no matter what, you’ll live on as long as you possibly can, despite whatever happens to me.”

“You aren’t allowed to kill yourself,” Ja’far sneered. “That isn’t fair.”

“I just don’t want this conversation to ever happen again.”

Ja’far glanced away, catching his breath before looking back to Sinbad’s darkened eyes. “…Fine.”

“Promise me,” Sinbad insisted. “Swear it on the thing you hold most dear that you will not break this promise.”

Ja’far sighed, coughing a little. “I promise I will not end myself if you die after this. I swear it on your name.”

Sinbad was searching his eyes, his expression, before he nodded, and looked to Aladdin. “I agree, then.”

Aladdin moved immediately to Sinbad’s side, working whatever kind of magic he had to disperse the black rukh that flocked to Sinbad’s depravity. It took a while; Ja’far wasn’t sure if he dozed off, or if he simply zoned out, but Aladdin’s distressed call brought him back to reality with a jerk that caused further harm to his many injuries.

“He’s—he’s—“ Aladdin cried as Ja’far made his way over. The blood that had been trickling from the various wounds on Sinbad earlier was now positively gushing. Aladdin’s eyes were as wide as they could be, his hands fluttering uncertainly. “I can’t heal this,” he murmured in disbelief. “This is—too much…these are magical, they won’t close—I would have to search for days in Solomon’s Wisdom—I don’t know how to heal this,” he hiccupped, the tears beginning again.

Sinbad had a resigned smile on his face, the light back in his eyes once more. He was paler than Ja’far had ever seen him in their years of knowing one another, and the tired, knowing look on his king’s face scared him more than anything ever had in his life.

“You…” he gasped out, “you _bastard_ ….you knew this was going to happen, didn’t you…?” Ja’far whispered hoarsely. “Your condition is null.”

Sinbad furrowed his brow, frowning. “You promised. No matter what,” he grunted, the words not coming to him easily.

“I won’t live without you. You can’t be so cruel,” Ja’far whispered, crawling over to lay beside his king. “I won’t do it,” he repeated.

Sinbad lifted a hand, smoothing away bloodstained hair and the tears cutting tracks through the grime on his face, showing the spattering of freckles on his cheeks once more.

“The people…won’t survive without one of us. Would you let them degrade into anarchy after we worked so hard for so many years for them…?”

Ja’far wasn’t concerned with trying to hold the crying in any longer; his eyes were clamped shut, the tears streaming down his face as the sobs wracked his body, uncaring of any physical pain at this point.

“You can’t make me do this,” he gasped. “I can’t do it…”

“You’ll do fine,” Sinbad murmured, his breathing becoming uneven.

Ja’far moved to press their lips together once more, remembering how nice it had felt for him—wanting to believe it would help, desperately hoping this was all just some sick joke—but Sinbad smiled, and became still, leaving Ja’far nothing but a weeping mess, sprawled over his king in a fit of despair.

\----------------

It took years to rebuild from all the destruction that the Kou Empire wrought on the tiny island nation, but Ja’far had little to do other than to throw himself into his work—any downtime, and he started _thinking_ again, and that wouldn’t do. Not when he was getting so much done. In the beginning, he rarely slept, ate or spoke other than to issue orders pertaining to the rebuilding of the country.

Once the country was running fairly well again, Ja’far was forced to accept the reality of his situation. This resulted in long bouts of depression rendering him unable to leave his bed, forcing Aladdin to check up on him several times a day to make sure he was eating and breathing.

Five years after the incident, Ja’far was able to function somewhat normally, at least on the surface. He sat in his office, filing paperwork and solving various issues with the accounting and taxation policies that had been laid down years before when Sindria was first founded. Sometimes, he still found himself picking up a scroll and standing from his chair to walk down the hall with a question on his lips, only to remember that the office he moved toward was empty. Rarely did he allow himself to think of the past, lest he return to the days he couldn’t find the strength to lift himself from his bed.

Aladdin had offered to let him talk to Sinbad’s rukh on several occasions, but Ja’far politely refused each time. He didn’t need to; not anymore. Sometimes it was in the breeze rolling off of the sea, or in the heat of the desert sun, but Ja’far could feel that his king was still watching over the country they’d all built together. His only solitude was the thought that one day, he might once again stand at his king’s side, watching over the living world together.

He would do fine, until then.


	3. Text Me Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexting, as requested by tumblr user claireakkuma. The prompt was to have Ja'far start sexting Sinbad while he was at work and couldn't get away, with bonus points showing the aftermath. :) This one is pretty raunchy...whoops.

Everything had started out rather routinely on that particular day—that normalcy belied just how _interesting_ it would turn out to be.

 

Sinbad had woken up to the sound of his alarm, turned it off, and then rolled back over to the warmth beneath the sheets that was Ja’far.  After a few slow kisses and nuzzling that did nothing but start the familiar slow burn deep in his belly, Ja’far had gently pushed him away and told him to go get ready for work.

 

Reluctantly, he did, feeling Ja’far’s eyes on him as he got out of bed and moved toward the shower.  Once he was finished, he walked back into the bedroom with nothing but a towel slung low on his hips, not bothering to dry off entirely (partially because he was lazy, but mostly because he knew Ja’far would be watching).  A glance to the bed showed that Ja’far had rolled over onto his side of the bed, half his face buried with only one dark eye visible between white sheets, pillows and mussy hair.

 

Sinbad turned away with a smirk to himself, dressing quickly and wringing out his hair once more before he tied it up.  With one last kiss to his lover, whom was still tangled up in the sheets, Sinbad winked and started to leave the bedroom.

 

“Enjoy your day off,” he murmured as he glanced back one last time.  “Text me later.”

 

Ja’far blinked, before a sly smile crept up on his face.

 

“Oh, I will…” he replied softly, before he stretched out in the way he _knew_ drove Sinbad crazy, slowly extending his legs until they were no longer covered by the sheets.  He watched the other the entire time, witnessing the clenched jaw and intensity in those golden eyes as he demurely displayed himself.

 

“Cocktease,” Sinbad muttered as he forced himself to turn on his heel and leave without looking back again.

 

Sinbad heard Ja’far’s soft giggle even once he was out by the front door, and was forced to adjust himself while taking a deep breath before he could leave their apartment.

 

\----------------------------------

 

Sinbad was sitting at the stereotypically long table at a stereotypically boring board meeting with the Saluja group when his phone lit up on the table, Ja’far’s name on the screen.  He pulled it closer, ignoring the droning about sales numbers to see what he needed; he was hardly the only one with his attention on his phone rather than the suit up front.

 

 **_Ja’far:_ ** _Whatcha doing?_

 

A violet eyebrow rose, slightly confused.  Ja’far rarely sent any kind of message that wasn’t straight to the point.  He quickly typed the only response the other could have possibly expected:

 

 **_Sinbad:_ ** _i’m working babe what are you up to_

 

He turned the screen off, resting his chin in a hand to try and at least _act_ like he was paying attention, before his phone lit up again only a few seconds later.

 

 **_Ja’far:_ ** _Just thinkin about you…_

Sinbad blinked, before the next message appeared right beneath it a moment later:

 

 ** _Ja’far:_** _And how_ hard _you make me._

Sinbad nearly dropped his phone, the jerky motion catching a few glances from others sitting nearby him.  His eyes were wider than they probably should have been, staring at the last message Ja’far had sent.  Before he could even think of any kind of response, another one appeared after that:

 

 **_Ja’far:_ ** _You said you had one of those quarterly meetings today, right?  Remember when I visited a few months back and you had me on that long table you’re sitting at right now?_

There was no _way_ he was leaving that room in the state he was in now.  Sinbad glanced back up to the front of the table where a man was still standing and lecturing.  He bit down on the inside of his cheek as he stared at the wooden finish, helpless to remember the very scene Ja’far described.

 

With a deep breath to try and bring his senses back, Sinbad looked back to his phone, pointedly concentrating on his message and his message alone:

 

 **_Sinbad:_ ** _babe…what are you doing_

 

He swallowed, hoping Ja’far would at least wait to continue until the meeting was over.

 

His phone lit up again, and even though he knew it would be best to just ignore it for the time being, Sinbad’s hand was drawn to the screen, pulling up his messages as he glanced at the words once again.

 

 ** _Ja’far:_** _Wish I was doing_ you _right now._

Sinbad’s mind was nearly overloaded by this point.  Excuses to leave were flitting through his head, each becoming more convoluted and unreasonable than the one before it.  He closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths and silently as he could before he typed his next message.

 

 **_Sinbad:_ ** _youre gonna get it later if you keep this up…babe don’t test me you know i cant leave this meeting_

 

It only took Ja’far a few seconds to reply.

 

 ** _Ja’far:_** _Oh I would_ hate _that…daddy’s gonna punish me for frustrating him.  What’s my punishment this time?_

 

Sinbad could taste blood from how hard he was biting the inside of his lip.

**_Sinbad:_ ** _Ja’far……_

**_Ja’far:_ ** _Daddy?  :)_ _  
_

Okay, Ja’far was just fucking with him.  God, he wouldn’t last much longer if he kept it up.  That had to be the last message…

 

Or so he thought.  Another bubble popped up underneath that one after a minute of silence.

 

 **_Ja’far:_ ** _You remember in the shower yesterday?  Mmmm…I love it up against the wall._

 

God.  Damnit.

 

 **_Sinbad:_ ** _Ja’far.  Cut it out._

 

The proper use of capitalization and punctuation would hopefully let Ja’far know he was serious.  Not that he didn’t enjoy it—the complete opposite, if the sizeable bulge in his pants could attest to anything.

 

 **_Ja’far:_ ** _Don’t wanna.  I keep imagining you in me…what am I supposed to do when you’re at work and I’m all alone at home, hard and wanting…?_

 

He was just going to keep at it.  Sinbad couldn’t fight anymore.  Damn the meeting and everyone in it, this was more fun.

**_Sinbad:_ ** _Are you touching yourself?_

His golden eyes were glued to the screen, waiting for Ja’far’s response; they were taking longer and longer to appear.

 

 **_Ja’far:_ ** _Yeah…but it’s not the same…_

 

Sinbad nearly reached down to relieve the pressure in his pants before he remembered he was in public, and just barely stayed the urge.

 

 **_Sinbad:_ ** _You’re going to regret this when I get home._

**_Ja’far:_** _Doesn’t help me_ now _…_

Another message appeared before Sinbad finished typing his reply.

 

 **_Ja’far:_ ** _Tell me what you’re gonna do to me_

Sinbad bit down on his lip, imagining how the scene would play out in his mind.

 

 **_Sinbad:_ ** _I’m gonna tie you up and pound you into the mattress until you start crying and beg me to stop.  Then I’ll just flip you over and keep going_

Ja’far had a rather masochistic streak that reared its head every once in a while, and when Ja’far first asked to be treated in that way—with safewords, of course—Sinbad found a side of himself he’d not known existed.  It was welling up in him now, which was bad considering his current surroundings.

 

 **_Ja’far:_ ** _I won’t be able to walk for days…_

**_Sinbad:_ ** _All the better for me if you can’t run._

He was at his breaking point now—Sinbad was certain his face was flushed, his eyes more predator than human, and he tried to take another moment to calm down.  He glanced back at the screen of his phone again when he saw another message arrive a minute or two later.

 

 **_Ja’far:_ ** _please come home it hurts more being so empty please daddy even when I use my fingers its not the same please come fill me up please_

Sinbad turned the screen off, looking up to the front of the room and seriously considering if his job was worth leaving Ja’far in such a state.  Luckily it was wrapping up, and in the next ten minutes he was the first one out the door when the meeting was officially over, holding his jacket over an arm to strategically place it over his obvious arousal.  He stopped by his boss’s office, poking his head in to give a lame excuse about feeling ill and needing to go home (“Oh, your face _is_ pretty flushed…go home and get some rest, Sinbad.”) before he was in his car, speeding dangerously down the highway to get back to their apartment complex in a record time of fifteen minutes (especially when considering the commute normally takes about forty-five).

 

He slammed the door open and kicked it closed, loosening his tie with a hand as he stumbled in and dropped everything else on the floor.  He managed to kick his shoes off before he made it to the bedroom, walking through the door and finding Ja’far curled up on the bed, already naked and apparently resting, a hand clutching his phone to his chest.

 

Sinbad’s eyes narrowed, a strange calmness taking place inside of him, despite the urgency his body felt at the sight of Ja’far laying before him.  He pulled his tie off but kept it nearby, unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off before climbing onto the bed, leaving only his pants on.

 

He climbed over Ja’far and pushed at his shoulder until he was on his back, his dark eyes blinking blearily up at him.  Once he understood what was happening, Ja’far’s eyes widened, his arms immediately trying to raise above his head in a submissive gesture.

 

“S-Sin—“

 

“Quiet,” Sinbad growled, looking Ja’far up and down now that he was closer.  He could see the evidence that Ja’far had been messing around with himself by the mess he had yet to clean up on his own stomach—ah, that only made Sinbad harder.

 

“Hold your arms out.”

 

Ja’far did so without question, his eyes lidding and lips parting as Sinbad grabbed his tie and wound it around the other’s wrists, bringing his arms up and over his head to tie them securely to the headboard.

 

Without so much as a warning, Sinbad slicked his fingers from the lube Ja’far was using earlier and reached down between Ja’far’s spread legs to press inside, taking his time and not letting that well of patience disappear before Ja’far was ready for him.  Considering just how riled up he was, the preparation would be very important if he didn’t want to cause any lasting damage.

 

Ja’far let out a soft noise, his eyes closed as his hips began to roll with the thrust of Sinbad’s fingers; he was already slick and somewhat relaxed from his earlier activities, so it wasn’t long until Sinbad was pressing the head of his cock against that pretty hole, his own breathing turning ragged again.  Ja’far’s back arched, his legs spreading further as he craned his neck trying to watch, but the angle with his arms tied above his head was too difficult for a decent view.

 

“Ja’far,” Sinbad murmured sweetly, though the growl in his chest betrayed the frustration in him as he watched himself rub up against Ja’far—teasing, not quite pressing in.  “Do you know why I’m so upset with you right now?”

 

There were already high pitched keening noises escaping from Ja’far’s throat, and it took a moment for him to gain the composure he needed to answer.

 

“I…I bothered you…at work…” he whined between breaths.

 

“Yes, you bothered me at work, while I was in a meeting that I _could not leave_.”  He let the head press in, let Ja’far feel the stretch of it, before he pulled it back out again.  It would be a brazen lie to say he had any more patience at this point, but this was payback—Ja’far couldn’t get away without a little torture of his own, after all.  It would make the rest of it all the more sweeter.

 

“Do you know what happens when you frustrate me so thoroughly I have to come home early?” he whispered into Ja’far’s ear, causing a shudder to rake down the other’s spine.

 

“I…get punished…for making you leave work…” Ja’far moaned as Sinbad bit down on his ear, his entire body writhing in anticipation.  “Please, please…” he whined breathlessly.

 

Sinbad hummed, still pressing up against the other as he moved down to bite at his neck.  “Please what?”

 

“Please…” Ja’far keened, “please, fuck me…with your big cock, daddy, please—“

 

Sinbad wanted to keep him writhing and pleading for so much longer, but that calm, cold patience was gone.  There was nothing but a predatory beast left, his eyes infinitely hungry as they raked over Ja’far’s submissive form.

 

He pressed in none too gently, his hips thrusting up against Ja’far’s ass only seconds later.  The broken cry that left the smaller man’s throat was beautiful to Sinbad’s ears, and he reveled in it for a moment before he picked up a brutal pace, his weight on his knees as he sat upright, his hands bruising vices on Ja’far’s waist, pulling him into vicious thrusts.  He threw his head back with his eyes closed, panting while he listened to the screams Ja’far emitted.  Sinbad glanced down after a few moments, watching Ja’far’s face, then his own length continuously disappearing into that tight heat meant only for him.

 

Ah, the sight of that was too much—Sinbad felt his orgasm approaching and leaned over Ja’far, one hand moving to fist in snowy hair to hold his head still while he pressed his lips to Ja’far’s ear.

 

“Don’t ever do that again,” he growled hoarsely, punctuating every word with a thrust of his hips, before he felt himself release deep inside the other with a deep groan.  He could still hear the weak noises Ja’far let out, close to orgasm himself—when, as an afterthought, Sinbad grabbed at the base of Ja’far’s cock, squeezing just tightly enough to deny him the pleasure he sought.

 

“Sin—“ Ja’far gasped, his body arching as it tried anyway.

 

Sinbad let go when the trembling subsided somewhat, letting himself fall to the side as his energy disappeared.

 

“If you come before I give you permission, I’ll be even angrier than I am now,” Sinbad murmured, though his voice had little bite to it in his afterglow.  Still, it was a command, and Ja’far _loved_ following orders.

 

“Y-yes…” Ja’far whimpered.

 

After letting himself rest for a few minutes, Sinbad traced a finger down the middle of Ja’far’s chest, past his stomach and down to a sharp hipbone.  He squeezed his hand into the plump part of his thigh, pressing underneath to grab at his ass.  Ja’far was still tense, his whole body shivering with the concentration he was putting into keeping himself from coming too soon.

 

Sinbad let out a chuckle, his hand moving around to barely touch at the head of Ja’far’s cock.

 

“Are you tired yet?” he asked, wanting a genuine response.

 

“I…I need…” Ja’far was gasping, the look in his eyes frantic and desperate.

 

Sinbad smirked, rolling onto his back.  “Alright.  You can come now.”

 

He opted just to listen, rather than to watch, though the sinful noises Ja’far let out were more than enough to stoke the fire once again.  Sinbad decided not to chase it, however—Ja’far did still have work the next day, after all.  There were days and years left of time for them to spend together; no need to do everything at once.

 

Once it was just the ragged breaths leaving Ja’far’s lips, Sinbad rolled onto one arm, the other stretching to undo the knots that kept Ja’far’s wrists bound to the headboard.  As soon as he was free, Ja’far rolled to his side as well, burying his face into Sinbad’s neck.

 

Sinbad rubbed little circles into the pale skin of his back, letting his eyes close as he finally felt true satisfaction.  Ja’far nipped lazily at the other’s collar bone, with no real bite to it.

 

“Done already?” he asked softly, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

 

“I’m thinking of your day at work tomorrow…unlike you,” Sinbad smirked tiredly.

 

Ja’far placed a kiss where he’d nibbled at earlier.  “I’m sorry…that really wasn’t well thought out.”

 

“It was fun…if rather inconvenient with a possibility of very bad consequences.  I’ll ask you to refrain from doing that when I’m at work again.  Or at least when you know I’m held captive at important meetings.”

 

Ja’far nuzzled in, wrapping his arms around Sinbad as best he could from the angle he was laying at.  “Okay, I can agree to that.”  He was silent for a minute, before he felt himself grinning even with his eyes still closed.  “I thought that at _least_ earned a spanking, though.”

 

“Ja’far…”

 

“Daddy?”


	4. Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, this is an omegaverse!! This is a prompt fill for m!preg, requested by tumblr user sofielella and also by an anon (sorry it's like a year or two later ;u;). I know A/B/O is not everyone's cup of tea, but if it's yours...well, enjoy it!! I spend some time kind of explaining my own take on omega verse, so just a head's up. Go forth, my sinja warriors, and enjoy. :3

Ja’far bit his lip as he looked at himself in the large mirror hanging in the king’s chambers, and he saw the anxiety in his own dark eyes before he noticed anything else. His hair was getting a little long; the ends were brushing his shoulders, a somewhat annoying tickle he felt off and on throughout the day. He twirled one lock of hair between two fingers—not unlike Sinbad enjoyed doing when they spent their intimate time together…that was probably the only reason he had yet to trim it down.

His uncertain gaze followed the motion of the thin robe he wore as it slipped from his shoulders, down to the slight bloating of his belly that was proof of how close his heat cycle was to starting. He had experienced his share of heats throughout the years—indeed, the first one had caught both himself and Sinbad off guard, which was why they had become mated to one another so early in life—but the fact that he was still without child this late in his life was the source of his apprehension.

Ja’far couldn’t stand the thought that he could hold his king and mate back simply by having a defective body. If he couldn’t bear children…Sinbad would have no line of succession, and it would be his fault. Though Sinbad had tried to quell the fear in him countless times before, Ja’far was always prone to doubt and guilt in this area of his life, often making him more irritable the closer it came to the time for his heat, rather than more relaxed as was normal for most others.

He heard Sinbad enter the room, closing the door behind him. Ja’far saw the other walk up behind him through the mirror, so he wasn’t surprised when there were large hands on him, squeezing into the extra inch his waistline always gained just before a cycle started. He closed his eyes when he felt Sinbad’s mouth on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, leaning his head away to give him more room.

Sinbad took a deep breath, and Ja’far could feel the smile in his words. “You’re _minutes_ away, love.”

Ja’far gave a soft hum of agreement, but otherwise didn’t respond. Sinbad’s hands moved to knead at the extra flesh of his belly, which was an odd quirk he always indulged in whenever he caught Ja’far before the scent of the heat drove anything but mating from his mind—Ja’far often wondered if that was something all Alphas were inclined to do, or if it was something specific to Sin. Either way, he enjoyed the attention his mate gave him.

Sinbad’s eyes were glazed already from the little bit of the heat scent he caught, but he was still coherent enough to feel the tenseness of Ja’far’s posture—and not in the good way, not yet.

He leaned over Ja’far’s shoulder to press a kiss to the freckles on one cheek, smiling softly. “I know you won’t relax before it starts, but…you know nothing is going to make me mad at you, right? I just enjoy being with you in the time we have together.”

Ja’far nodded, but remained silent. Sinbad sighed, choosing to nuzzle into soft, white hair instead as his hands continued to squeeze into the soft skin his mate had developed. He hated feeling so helpless—Ja’far never accepted any kind of comfort regarding this problem, and to Sinbad it truly wasn’t a big deal; he didn’t require a bloodline to keep his country going, as far as he was concerned. It may even turn out better without one—who knew? But that line of reasoning did nothing but make Ja’far feel worse, and so Sinbad resigned himself to staying mostly quiet, despite the intense frustration he felt at not being able to do anything to make it better for the other.

After a few moments of silence, Ja’far grabbed at his wrists.

“It’s beginning,” he murmured, tugging at Sinbad to get him to move. He’d been too slow before, and had the skin rubbed raw on his hands and knees when they hadn’t made it to the soft surface of the bed before the heat took over.

“I’m coming,” he muttered, breaking away for a moment to pull his clothes off as he watched Ja’far climb onto the bed and stretch out onto his belly, positioning a pillow underneath himself for comfort. He watched Ja’far’s breathing become ragged, saw the slickness beginning to drip down his thighs as he raised his ass into the air before the scent struck him.

Sinbad was drawn to the thick, alluring scent specific to Ja’far—it spoke to him on the basest of levels, urging him to mate and breed and dominate, leaving no room for question or doubt. He was on his knees behind Ja’far before he registered moving, pressing in to the slick heat that called out to him. He was helpless to thrust in completely, letting out a groan at the sensation as he heard Ja’far’s high-pitched keening.

Instead of sliding in and out at a steady pace like when they had sex outside of the heat, Sinbad was compelled—like every other Alpha—to push in and stay, his hips rolling against Ja’far’s ass as he kept himself buried to the hilt. Sinbad’s breathing was ragged, a constant low growl in his chest as he rutted over his mate, unable to focus on anything but the thought of keeping his Omega still as he felt the knot growing as the base of his cock.

Ja’far was lost—everything, from his mate’s hands digging bruises into his waist, to the length deep inside him, was bursting with excruciating pleasure. He wound up on his knees and elbows, keeping his back arched as his whole body was thrust forward with every roll of Sinbad’s hips. His long, drawn-out moans turned to short, high-pitched cries when he felt the knot inside of him, his legs trying to spread further at the vague thought of being bred, needing his mate’s seed like he needed air—

Sinbad was letting out soft whines now, the knot becoming more uncomfortable than pleasurable as it restricted his movement, forcing him to stay in place until he released. With a snarl more animal than human, he came—it took longer than usual, saturating the inside of his Omega until his seed was dripping out from around his cock.

The feel of the seed bursting inside him had Ja’far screaming before he could register the intense blast of pleasure, and had him unconscious before Sinbad was finished.

The knot tended to stay for several hours after, making sleep a somewhat awkward affair, but Sinbad had enough practice that he managed to get them situated more comfortably for rest in a relatively short amount of time. He curled up against Ja’far’s back, his arms encircling him tightly before he let himself fall into a dead sleep.

\-----------------------------

When Sinbad woke, the sun was already high in the sky. He blinked sleepily, noting that their clothes hadn’t been changed or the room altered by the maids yet. It was common knowledge that disturbing a couple after they’ve mated is a very bad idea, for two reasons: first, if the Alpha is still there, he becomes viciously protective of his mate, even when there’s no real threat from the offending intruder; the second is that if the Alpha is gone for some reason, the Omega is even more dangerous if unwillingly woken from the sort of coma they fall into afterwards; an intruder’s eyes being scratched out was not unheard of.

Omegas could sleep for up to a week after a heat cycle, depending on how well they take the seed trying to plant in them; the longer they sleep, the higher chance of a pregnancy, or so the belief goes. Ja’far usually woke after only a day or two, his body rejecting the mating for whatever reason. Sinbad remained close to his lover for the next few minutes, kissing the freckled skin at the back of his neck and shoulders while giving the most heartfelt prayer he could remember in the entirety of his life to whatever deities might be listening: _Please, please give us a child,_ he thought, his hand straying back down toward Ja’far’s belly. _Make him truly smile again._

Sinbad would be lying if he said he didn’t want a child with Ja’far—he’d imagined it hundreds of times, what Ja’far would look like, swollen and plump around his child, and the babe itself—would it have his coloring? Freckles? Darker eyes like his mate, or golden ones like his own? Ah, but such things had ceased being spoken aloud years ago, after Ja’far became convinced he was barren.

A sigh left his lungs before Sinbad moved to stand, gently moving his mate to take the dirty sheets away and replace them with clean ones. After that, he cleaned himself up and brought a damp cloth back to the bed to clean Ja’far, slowly running it along the insides of his thighs, up between his legs and to the mess on his stomach. He didn’t so much as twitch during the whole thing, somehow knowing instinctively that it was his mate touching him, and not reacting to any kind of a threat.

It was probably the musk Sinbad gave off; like the scent of the heat an Omega emitted, similarly an Alpha had their own scent to ward off other nearby Alphas from their mate once the cycle was over. Even if an Omega was bonded, a wayward Alpha could still try and force himself on them if he were desperate or stupid enough—hence the scent Sinbad released instinctively. It was a warning to anybody foolish enough to get near his resting mate that he was still nearby.

Most Alphas had the luxury of staying with their mates throughout the entirety of the post-heat phase, but kings were unfortunately exempt. He still had a country to run, and more work than usual to go through and oversee now that Ja’far was out of commission. He’d be happy to work more than usual for a week, if it meant his seed finally planted. It was difficult to pull himself away from Ja’far, moving to his closet to dress properly before he had to carry on with the tasks for the day. Every instinct was warning him not to leave his Omega unguarded, any unbonded Alpha would jump at the chance to take his mate from him—

But his people were loyal to him, and despite his urges, he knew they would not betray him. As he walked out, one last lingering glance to Ja’far’s unconscious form, before he looked at the guard assigned to the door. By the scent of him—mostly the lack of scent, actually—he was a Beta, and unlikely to try anything. Loyalty or not, Sinbad wouldn’t put an Alpha at the door unless he had no other option.

He stopped in front of the guard, the young man respectfully not meeting his king’s eyes.

“I know you understand your duty,” Sinbad started, “but for my own sanity, I must reiterate that nobody but myself is to enter this room. Not a maid, nor a messenger, not even another general. Is that clear?” he asked softly.

“Yes, your majesty. I will protect this doorway with my life.”

“Good. If anyone asks of my whereabouts, please inform them I’m off to the baths, and then to my desk.”

The guard nodded, posture straightening until he resembled a plank of wood. Sinbad turned and sighed, moving toward the baths to hopefully get some of the heady scent of heat off of him, lest he distract the entire staff within his palace. The musk, unfortunately, was something he had little control over; he would likely ward off most of the Alphas for a week—or, at least, until whenever Ja’far roused. Until then, even if he wasn’t near his Omega, the urge to protect and hoard what was his was a nearly impossible thing to ignore.

—————————————————————————————————————————————-

Ja’far roused to the sun in his eyes, causing him to blink and scrunch his face up unhappily. It lasted only a moment, as he was warm, surrounded in the plush blankets and soft furs that were reserved for his heat—and, of course, his mate’s thick scent, which calmed him when nothing else came close. He lay contentedly for some time, sighing and enjoying the time he could actually relax without worrying about an entire kingdom until the post-heat haze left him. The only thing that would make this time perfect would be—

A weight on the bed, scooting close to him, wrapping around him and filling the room with spice and musk and safety… Ja’far nuzzled into his Alpha, his king, his _everything_ , and found peace. Sinbad held him tightly, face buried in snowy hair, arms wound around Ja’far as though he would never get the chance again.

They lay together for some time, pressing against one another, touching softly and shifting just to feel their skin together.

Sinbad hummed lowly when he felt Ja’far bite at his neck, a sharp pain but a pleasant one. He lifted a hand to thread his fingers through his mate’s hair, letting him do as he pleased. Nothing was better than time with Ja’far when he wasn’t busy and stressed or worried, and he lavished the attention while he had it.

He felt rather than saw the mischievous smile on Ja’far’s lips as he slid down his body, the feel of fingernails digging just enough to be pleasurable without hurting him as they scraped down his chest and abdomen. Ja’far nuzzled into his hip before his mouth was on his mate’s cock, bringing him to hardness in record time, even for an Alpha.

“Hmm,” Sinbad smiled lazily, his hand still in that white, silky hair as he watched his mate bob up and down on him, suckling greedily and noisily as he pleased. “You can never get enough of my seed, can you?” has asked, his voice deep and husky. Ja’far moaned, his hands clutching at Sinbad’s thighs as he worked to get more down his throat.

Giving head wasn’t something Ja’far was particularly inclined to do normally, but whenever he was near heat, or just after, he begged for the pleasure. For whatever reason, Sinbad didn’t care; watching Ja’far want so badly, it was nearly better than the feel of his lips and tongue and the luxury of his mouth.

After letting him play several minutes, Sinbad tugged on his hair, pulling him off and smirking at the saliva running down his chin, at the dazed pleasure in Ja’far’s eyes.

“If you want it so badly, get on your back.”

Ja’far bit his lip, a small distressed sound leaving his throat.

“I…let me…” he stared at his Alpha’s cock, hard and erect just in front of his face. “I want more,” he whined, mouth watering at the prospect of sucking on his Alpha once more.

Sinbad couldn’t help the rush that went to his cock at those words, and the sight of Ja’far’s open mouth, gasping as he begged for more.

At Sinbad’s nod, he lurched forward, moaning as he immediately took him down his throat, nuzzling into the coarse hairs where his nose pressed.

Fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of his Omega’s neck, he thrust into his mouth without thought for gentleness, something he was usually prone to when it came to his mate. Ja’far was so far gone, lost in his post-heat pleasure, and Sinbad was never one to deny him when he asked so nicely. He pulled Ja’far off once again until he was rubbing the head against his swollen, parted lips, watching as his seed smeared over them before he pushed back inside, making sure Ja’far _tasted_ as he came, letting out a deep groan from within his chest as he watched Ja’far swallow, felt him suckling and milking every drop from him that he could until there was nothing left.

Ja’far pulled off panting, his own arousal obvious as he crawled back up to curl into his mate’s chest, shivering with need.

Sinbad ran a hand down Ja’far’s side and around to his ass, squeezing his fill until his fingers dipped inside, finding his hole wet and leaking.

Well. So much for a refractory period.

No more than a few minutes of playing with Ja’far’s ass, fitting four fingers and staying the urge to force more in, and Sinbad is as hard as he’s ever been, thanking the gods for blessing Alphas with an insatiable libido.

Ja’far is mewling, gasping, begging for him, his legs attempting to spread wide at every opportunity, as he claws at Sinbad and pulls him closer.

“You’ll have it,” Sinbad growled, pushing Ja’far onto his back and taking immense satisfaction as pale arms rise above his head, giving him control and power without hesitation. He pushed Ja’far’s legs up, watching his open hole stretch and glisten, the slick leaking steadily from it and onto the sheets below him. The sight nearly drives Sinbad mad, makes him want to fasten his mouth to it and taste the sweet nectar his Omega makes for him and him alone—

Ah, but there’s no time for that. Ja’far’s keening grew louder, his whole body writhing in anticipation as Sinbad lines his cock up, pressing in to the hilt in one easy slide, throwing his head back as he basks in the pleasure. Ja’far is loose and positively dripping around him, muscles tightening every few seconds in pleasure, and the wet, slick sound of every thrust is more lewd than anything he can imagine.

Sinbad spares a glance down, pushing Ja’far’s legs up to bend him in half as he watches his cock disappear deep within his mate’s hole, and sees the slick his mate exudes leak out every time he pulls back.

 _This,_ Sinbad thinks haphazardly, _is even_ better _than heat._ Ja’far has never been so… _wild_ , he can’t think of a better word for this sensual creature underneath him, needing him so badly he can see it hurts in his lover’s face.

“Look how much you want me,” Sinbad grunts, feeling the fever he usually only gets when the rut sets in during the peak of Ja’far’s heat. He changed he pace, leaning down to stay inside, rutting over Ja’far like a stallion takes a mare, but with the pleasure of seeing his flushed face. “You wouldn’t survive without my cock, would you, love?”

Ja’far shook his head wildly, barely able to comprehend the words his mate spoke. “I, can’t, I can’t, I…”

“You _are,_ ” Sinbad growled, bracing his hands on either side of Ja’far’s head and thrusting _hard_ , pulling shriek after shriek from his lover, until he watched him peak, his come spurting so hard it hit his own chest, and the tightening around Sinbad’s cock made the other moan helplessly.

Sinbad let out a confused noise, glancing down at himself as he felt his knot stir. He nearly pulled out, surprised, but it was too late—he found himself stuck inside, and came hard, biting down on Ja’far’s shoulder until he tasted blood.

After a few moments to calm down, Sinbad, raised himself up on his hands, looking down between them with dazed confusion.

Ja’far was still conscious, looking as bemused as his mate.

“Did you…knot me…again?” he asked dumbly, the answer obvious.

“I…yeah…” Sinbad answered.

“…How?”

“Dunno. Maybe it was just that good,” Sinbad sighed, carefully levering himself down to cover his mate, nuzzling in for after-sex cuddles.

“But that doesn’t happen,” Ja’far mumbled after a few moments, not returning the touch.

“Well, ’s not hurting anything. Just can’t move for a while. Enjoy it.”

Ja’far huffed, but eventually gave in, resting for a time until he felt Sinbad shift the covers. His fingers traced a path across a tanned arm, enjoying the feel of the muscles tensing under his touch. he let the silence linger, admiring the nearly-full moon in the sky outside the open balcony, before he began to get restless.

“Did the documents from the latest shipment from Heliohapt get delivered yesterday?” he asked quietly. “I need to make sure I’m prepared for the meeting next week.”

“What?” Sinbad mumbled, his face still buried in the pillow to the side of Ja’far’s face.

“The documents,” Ja’far repeated, his fingers running through the loose strands of Sinbad’s long hair. “The ones I need for the general’s meeting we hold every Tuesday?”

Sinbad chuckled, soon turning into a full-on deep laughter. Ja’far’s brow furrowed, annoyance coming quickly for the man on top of him.

“Is this you saying I’m going to be completed unprepared? Because you can forget me coming back to this bed until my next heat, you lazy excuse for a king,” he seethed.

“No, not at all,” he managed between chuckles. “This is me saying that meeting already happened.”

Ja’far blinked, confused. “Why was it pushed up? Did something happen? Why wasn’t I made aware?”

Sinbad turned his head to kiss Ja’far’s temple, warmth blossoming in his chest as he said the words.

“It wasn’t. It’s Thursday, love. Six and a half…” he glance out at the night sky and corrected himself, “that is to say, _seven_ days since you lay asleep.”

Ja’far was silent, but as he understood what his mate said to him, he felt tears begin to well in his eyes.

“Don’t lie to me,” he sniffed, raising a hand to cover his face.

“I would never,” Sinbad murmured, lifting himself up and pushing Ja’far’s hand away to kiss him properly, leaving it sweet and chaste. “I think I know why your pheromones are off, causing another knot,” he smiled, dragging a hand down to Ja’far’s belly and resting it there. “I think you’re going to need to be extra careful for a while.”

Ja’far’s hand followed Sinbad’s, curling on top of hand as it shook.

“I’m so happy,” he whispered as his lip trembled, and a single tear fell down his cheek.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” Sinbad answered, pressing his lips to the freckles on his cheek, wiping away the tears.

————————————————————————————————————————————————

Seven months after his heat, Ja’far is weary and sore, unable to stand for long before he finds himself seeking a rest. More annoying than that, than even giving over most of his usual work to his subordinates so that he can rest properly, is the fact that Sinbad’s shadow is nearly always following him—closer than his own, even.

It’s understood that especially when their Omega is pregnant (and oh, Ja’far is so _very_ pregnant, his belly swollen so large with the child inside of him he hasn’t seen his own feet in weeks), an Alpha can get ridiculously overprotective. It makes sense, as a swollen, aching Omega can hardly protect themselves if threatened, but…

Honestly, who in their right minds would threaten Ja’far, who bears the king’s first child?

Ja’far had to move most of the things he needs day-in and day-out to his mate’s office, the only way to ensure some amount of work is done by both of them, never mind the fact that all of his parliamentary staff now has to run from one end of the building to the other when his guidance or approval is needed (and it is needed _often_ ).

Sinbad doesn’t even let him leave the palace without his presence, not that Ja’far left so often in the first place, but the restriction makes him itch to go somewhere…even if the aching in his bones tells him otherwise. It’s annoying, but sweet and somewhat amusing sometimes, how much Sinbad is determined to keep him safe from any perceived threat.

One night, as they lay in bed with dimmed candles on their burners, Ja’far hums as he nibbles on a bit of bread he had a servant bring up despite the late hour. He’s long since given up trying to understand when and how hungry he will get throughout the day and night.

“Sin?” he asks quietly.

“Hmm?” Sinbad responds, tightening the arm he has around Ja’far’s shoulders.

“Is it just Alpha instinct, or do you really have a reason to think I’m in imminent danger all the time?” he chuckled, doing his best to find a position where his back doesn’t hurt quite so badly.

“Maybe a bit of both,” he responds, noticing his Omega’s discomfort and urging him onto his side, spooning up behind him and working the muscles he could reach with his thumb. “I know there isn’t really a reason to be wary all day when you’re surrounded by those loyal to me and this country,” he allowed, pressing his face into Ja’far’s hair that’s really growing quite fast now, as it reaches several inches below his shoulders. “But realistically, if an enemy wanted to hurt me, now would be the perfect time. It’s no secret that you’re mated to me, or that you’re about as pregnant as it’s possible to be,” he smiled, smoothing a hand over Ja’far’s belly. “If Al-Sarmen, or even just another miffed country wanted to make a problem for me…I should think they would want to harm what matters most to me.” With that, his arms tightened around Ja’far as much as they could without causing discomfort.

“I see,” Ja’far answered, resting a hand on top of Sinbad’s. “Even in this state, though, I think I could take a few of them.”

“No doubt you could,” Sinbad smiled sleepily. “But they would find themselves on the sharp end of my blade before they even finish thinking of it.”

Ja’far shifted, a soft noise showing his discomfort before he stilled, sighing. “The child is moving. Want to feel?”

Sinbad nodded excitedly, letting Ja’far place his hand over the right spot on his belly.

No matter how many times he felt it, Sinbad was awed at the presence of his child, at the strength of his mate for carrying him.

“He’ll be strong, that’s for sure. Look how ready he is to be out,” Sinbad chuckled, breathing in Ja’far’s satisfied scent.

“Hopefully he’ll have more sense than his father. Maybe some more patience for paperwork, too…” Ja’far trailed off, unable to keep from teasing.

“Hush now, he’ll be whatever he wants to be. And if that includes being an adventure-seeker like his father, then so be it,” Sinbad huffed, a tone of finality in his voice.

“Whatever you wish, my king.”

————————————————————————————————————————————————

Six weeks later, and Ja’far is cradling his child to his chest, watching him sleep. He’s amused at himself, chuckling at how watching a sleeping child could hold his attention for hours if he let it.

He could hear the bells ringing in their tower in the distance, letting the entire country know that the king’s son is born, and no doubt there will be a feast tonight in his honor (Ja’far rolls his eyes; as if the newborn will understand). Sinbad is at his side, watching his son just the same as his mate, one arm around Ja’far, the other hand stroking gently at the tuft of dark hair on his head.

“Have you thought of a name yet, my king?” Ja’far asks quietly, not wanting to disturb the child’s sleep.

Sinbad lets out a breath, thinking.

“I don’t know. Do you have any ideas?”

Ja’far hummed, shaking his head. “I was more concerned about him getting here, and being healthy. Shall we just…name him after you?”

“How unoriginal. He should grow up to be his own man, not try to be me,” Sinbad scoffed.

“I don’t see you offering up any other ideas,” Ja’far replied mildly.

“Let’s wait a bit. Something will come to us. It’s not like we have to show him to the world for a few weeks anyway.”

Ja’far nodded, relaxing into Sinbad’s embrace.

He squeezed his mate, pressing a kiss to the freckles on his cheek.

“Thank you,” he murmured into his skin.

“What for?” Ja’far asked, turning his head to meet his mate’s mouth.

Sinbad kissed him languidly, letting the moment stretch before he answered.

“This…everything,” he gestured broadly to Ja’far and the child, to the world around them, careful not to move too much. “Everything would be different without you. I don’t think I’d be where I am today, if not for you. I know I’m all the better for your company.”

Ja’far flushed, the compliment resonating deep within him.

“…I think it runs both ways. I _know_ it does.”

“I’ll stay with you til the end,” Sinbad smiled.

“Don’t steal my lines.”


End file.
